


69 Tea

by thejokeristhethief



Series: So This Is Home [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejokeristhethief/pseuds/thejokeristhethief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the walk home after a night at their favourite bar Wash becomes lost and York gets sick. It's just a normal night for North. Why on earth did he agree to date these two idiots?</p>
            </blockquote>





	69 Tea

**Author's Note:**

> So. In an interesting twist which surprised even myself, I decided to celebrate the smuttiest number in existence, 69, by NOT writing smut. What is this world coming to? Thank you to all of my 69 followers on tumblr. Feel free to join the party, friends (the ask box is always open for prompts!):  
> http://thejokeristhethief.tumblr.com/

“Seventy bottles of beer on the wall, seventy bottles of beer. Take one down and pass it around, sixty-nine -” York’s helpless giggles drown out the rest of the verse Wash is drunkenly singing. North sighs tiredly; it’s been a long night and it doesn’t look like it’s going to end anytime soon. Sometimes he thinks he deserves a fucking award for his patience. Then again,  he is the idiot that agreed to date, and consequently fell in love with the two intoxicated idiots currently making fools out of themselves. So instead of dumping the childish jackass laughing hysterically over a number that ceased to be amusing in ninth grade on the ground like he wants to, North tugs York’s arm more firmly over his shoulder, wrapping the arm not occupied with keeping it there around the brunette’s waist. He silently commends himself when he doesn’t flinch away from the man’s impossibly loud voice.

“North! North, Wash got to sixty-nine.” York pulls against his grip for a moment before sagging into his side. He suppresses the need to sigh again in anticipation of whatever ridiculousness is about to come out of his intoxicated lover’s mouth next. “Sixty-nine is good. I like it. Can we? Please? I promise I’ll make it good this time.”

North takes a moment to enjoy the silence that York allows him as he pretends to contemplate the request. In all honesty, the idea of sixty-nining is completely unappealing to him. The first problem being that there happens to be three of them, making any sort of attempt at that awkward and uncomfortable. But even if that were easily solved, the fact that they are adults with all the time in the world to enjoy themselves, rather than horny teenagers trying to get off before their parents get home, kind of eliminates any need or desire to practice that particular position again. He likes to take his time, thank you very much. And sixty-nining just screams ‘I’m in a rush’. Speaking of taking his time, York’s looking up at him with a hopeful expression, still utterly silent while waiting for his answer. Squeezing the brunette’s side lightly, he breaks the still quiet that has settled over them. “Maybe, love. We’ll see how you’re feeling when we get you home, OK?”

“Awww. Alright, I guess that’s OK.” The other man pulls him down to press a sloppy kiss on his cheek as his obnoxiously loud and drunken voice chases North’s quieter reply into the night. As he listens to the sound of York’s voice echoing through the air, the niggling sense of something being amiss solidifies into a real, desperate moment of panic: Wash’s singing has stopped. The realization seems to hit his other lover at the same time, as York straightens up, pulling his arm from around North’s neck to give him an intoxicated but worried look. His attempt at a whisper comes out loud, sounding borderline terrified. “North… North we lost Wash. What if  **they** took him. We have to get him back!”

He can feel his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he stares incredulously at the ridiculous man he decided to fall in love with. York is peering around in paranoia, strangely reminiscent of a cartoon thief about to get caught after a bank heist. The description is strangely fitting and North feels himself smiling at the thought. A smile that is quickly cut off when the brunette stumbles away from him to check the bushes and ends up tripping into them with a wail of dismay. He briefly considers leaving the intoxicated idiot there while he locates Wash, who has most likely found a dry, dark place to curl up and nap. While York grows increasingly more rowdy and ridiculous when approaching blackout drunk, their younger lover starts to crash after reaching that point, eventually disappearing only to be found later, curled up in a pile of coats on the closet floor. But no, the brunette’s whimpers and pathetic flailing of limbs has him bending down to drag his impossible boyfriend from the thorny grasp of the shrubbery. Setting York on his feet, North brushes him off slightly before issuing an exasperated but fond sigh when the man tilts dangerously back towards the bushes. Tucking his lover securely into his side to keep him upright, North moves forward, careful to make sure the other man moves with him. “Come here, you drunkard. Let’s go find Wash so we can get you both home and to bed. And York? No more tequila OK?”

“Mmm. North I think I’m going to be sick.” A quick glance at York’s face corroborates that statement. The brunette is looking decidedly off colour, cheeks pale in the way they typically get before the other man vomits all over the place. Turning the shorter man away from him, he wraps a steadying arm around his waist before placing the other in the middle of his back, bending him over gently. A moment later York is emptying the contents of his stomach at the edge of the parking lot as North rubs his back soothingly. Once he’s certain the other man is done, he steers the brunette over to one of the low parking barricades a healthy distance away from the alcoholic puddle previously located in his lover. Depositing him there, he starts to head over to the covered walkway between two buildings in the strip mall. One of the stores bordering the alcove is under construction, and last time they came here there was a pile of old, no doubt filthy, carpet discarded just outside the backdoor. 

Sure enough, when North rounds the corner he finds his younger lover curled in a ball on top of the pile of worn and disgusting grey carpet. He takes a second to admire how peaceful the energetic blonde looks when asleep; Wash is almost always awake long after he falls asleep and often rises hours before he even begins to stir. It’s a shame he has to wake him, but even if it were safe to let him sleep for a while, he’d never allow his lover to stay on something as germ ridden and dirty as that carpet. Crouching down, he shakes Wash’s shoulder gently. The young man groans, curling up tighter and swatting at the hand North is insistently shaking his shoulder with. Sighing softly, he briefly wonders why the two people he fell so hard for are so difficult when drunk, before forcing his lover to roll onto his back. “Wash, it’s time to wake up. You can’t sleep here. The carpet you’re on is full of germs and bugs. If you stay here you are going to get sick. Come on, love. Up you get.”

With another dramatic groan, Wash opens one eye, staring at him blurrily. “North? Mmm, ‘m tired. Why do I gotta get up? ‘s still night.”

“Yes it is. And you are still very drunk. But you need to get up so we can go home.” North offers the smaller blonde a hand, smiling encouragingly when the other takes it before tugging him up carefully. “Good boy. I promise that our bed is much more comfortable than that pile of carpet. Let’s go get York so we can crawl into it, OK love?”

“Where’d you put him?” Wash leans against his side heavily, blinking his eyes owlishly in an attempt to keep them open. North staggers when his lover trips, barely keeping them both upright. “Oops. Sorry North. My feets aren’t workin’ right.”

He’s about to about to assure Wash that it’s OK when the blonde goes down again, this time escaping North’s grasp and ending up face first on the ground. He winces when the young man’s chin scrapes across the cement of the sidewalk. To his surprise, his lover releases a small giggle, rolling over to reveal the patch of road rash covering the underside of his chin. “Oopsies, I tripped again. I really can’t feel my feet North. Or my face. My face is numb. I can’t feel my face when I’m with you!”

North scrubs his palm over his own face tiredly as Wash starts belting out the annoyingly catchy song that his two lovers constantly crank when it comes on the radio, singing along with Theta to his utter dismay and disapproval. At least York had the decency to explain the song lyrics to them when the nine year old wasn’t around. He’d rather not have a discussion about what drugs the brunette has and hasn’t done around his son. In fact, he’d rather not have any discussion about drugs happen around his son unless it's about how Theta shouldn’t do them because they mess with brain chemistry and can cause problems. A talk that York actually sat down and had with his son and Junior last year when a father of one of their classmates got brought up on drug trafficking charges after being caught with a shed full of heroin. Not that his son would ever touch the stuff anyway; his exes scummy boyfriend, Joe, made sure of that.

York’s answering voice, incredibly off key and jumbled together, pulls North from his head. Kneeling down, he checks Wash over carefully before pulling a tissue from his jacket pocket to clean the blood off his lover’s face. They both wince at the contact, the younger man letting out a small whine of protest. “Sorry love. It's not too bad though. When we get home I’ll patch you up. But I need you to cooperate right now. How about a piggyback ride?”

“But North… I think I’m too drunk to carry you. And you’re too tall anyway. Remember last time?” Wash looks so innocent, and with his brown eyes open wide and the blood dripping down his chin he’s reminded distinctly of Theta. The earnest look he receives makes him smile softly; his boyfriends may be ridiculous but he definitely wouldn’t trade either of them for anything. When it becomes apparent North isn’t going to answer him, his lover continues. “Your feet dragged on the ground and we fell over. York wouldn’t stop laughing because he’s a butt.”

“No love. I meant that I would give you a piggyback ride. Because your feet are being difficult.” Wash’s eyes grow even more impossibly wide, excitement crossing his face. The other man nods enthusiastically at him as he moves over to sit on the edge of the raised sidewalk, before following and carefully looping his arms around North’s neck. His legs follow, encircling the taller man’s waist when he pushes himself into standing position. He grins when Wash presses his forehead to his shoulder; the smaller man will probably pass out again in a few minutes. Sure enough, North only makes it halfway across the parking lot before the soft snoring starts. York struggles to his feet as he approaches, swaying softly.

“Noorth! North, I missed you.” The brunette slams into him with enthusiastic affection, sending him staggering back a pace. Removing one of the arms supporting Wash, he wraps York in an embrace, laughing when the other man nuzzles his cheek before pushing himself onto his toes to peer over his shoulder. “Aww you found Washy. He sleeping? Wash, babe, are you sleeping?”

“Nooo, shh. Too noisy.” The words are moaned as Wash shifts on his back, rubbing his forehead along North’s shoulder in irritation. York chuckles, leaning further into him to place a quick kiss to the dirty blonde hair that is just visible from where the man has nestled into him.

“He’s so cute.” York coos, grinning up at him. North can’t help smiling back, despite the exhaustion he’s starting to feel. “Man, we’re so lucky North. How’d I get so lucky?”

The last part is whispered with such awe that North feels his heart twinge a little. York never really talks about his childhood, but over the years he’s gleaned enough knowledge to know that there wasn’t a lot of love in the fancy upper class home that this wonderful, caring, ridiculous man came from. Running his hand up York’s back, he grips the back of the brunette’s neck, holding him still so he can lean down and capture those tempting lips in a loving kiss that has the other man practically melting. “I love you, York. You are amazing and kind and beautiful. And anyone would be lucky to have you. So none of this self deprecating crap, OK? You deserve us. Luck has nothing to do with it.”

“Thanks, you big sap. Now, can we go home? I’m cold and tired and not nearly drunk enough to deal with this weird emotional crap I’m feeling right now.” York pats his cheek softly. The statement and action that goes with it startle a laugh out of him before North slides his hand back down so his arm in encasing York’s waist. The brunette moves closer, sharing North’s body heat as they head for home. Briefly he thinks the moment could be romantic, before York ruins it. “Are you sure we can’t sixty-nine when we get home?”


End file.
